Of Isildur's Ring and Númenorean courtship customs
by JaneSpeedwell
Summary: Gandalf searches the archives of Minas Tirith for clues about the true identity of Isildur's Ring, and in doing so manages to outwit the Chief Archivist's sleuthing.


**Of Isildur's Ring and Númenorean courtship customs**

 _Summary: Gandalf searches the archives of Minas Tirith for clues about the true identity of Isildur's Ring, and in doing so manages to outwit the Chief Archivist's sleuthing._

Leaving his horse in the care of a gangly boy who was hardly old enough to be a stablehand, Gandalf hurried away from the inn and made his way up to the seventh circle of Minas Tirith. The city was much as he remembered it from his last visit: noisy, and full of the stench of humans and livestock living too close together.

The Lord Denethor, however, was changed, as Gandalf saw when he was finally admitted into the throne room. Even as a young man he had been earnest and slow to laughter, but Gandalf perceived something different about the Steward. Not only was his face more lined than before, and his hair greyer, but his spirit was weary and his mood hard and grim.

'So, wise and esteemed Lord Mithrandir', drawled Denethor with exaggerated courtesy. 'How may I help a wanderer such as yourself? For I assume that you do not only come in order to wish the Steward of Gondor health and happiness. Come, tell me what you desire of Gondor, and I will tell you whether I shall grant it'.

Gandalf stiffened at the Steward's haughty words, but replied in an even tone. 'My Lord Steward, you are correct. There is something I must ask of you. I should like to have free access to the City Archives; there is an ancient text which I am seeking, relating to the foundation of Minas Tirith, and I believe this is the most likely place to find it'.

Denethor was silent for some seconds, and a shrewd look came into his face. 'If indeed you look only, as you say, for records of ancient days, and the beginnings of the City, read on! For to me what was is less dark than what is to come, and that is my care. But unless you have more skill even than Saruman, who has studied here long, you will find naught that is not well known to me, who am master of the lore of this City'.

'That may be so, my Lord, yet I shall seek this text nonetheless. I thank you for your kind permission, and wish you good day'. So saying, Gandalf bowed and walked out of the throne room.

Some minutes after the wizard departed, Denethor summoned his page. 'Hirluin. I need you to talk to the Chief Archivist. Bid him keep watch over what Mithrandir does in the City Archives. I trust him not, and would know what sort of knowledge he truly seeks. For it may be that he finds something of importance to Gondor, which I would not have kept from me'. Hirluin gave a quick nod and left the room, leaving Denethor to brood among the lengthening evening shadows.

It was his fifth day of research in the City Archives, and Gandalf had not yet found what he was looking for. Part of the problem was how ill-organised these early Gondorian documents seemed to be. Laundry lists were mixed up with legal texts, so that he had discovered exactly how many tunics Isildur took with him to Arnor, but nothing regarding the Ring. Gandalf also had a strong suspicion that the obsequious Chief Archivist, who hovered around him constantly offering refreshments, was spying on him. On a whim, Gandalf decided to confuse the man by spending the afternoon demanding to see scrolls relating to Númenorean courtship customs.

As the early evening sunlight streamed through the windows, Gandalf contemplated finishing for the day and returning to his inn for a hearty supper. But before doing so, he decided to examine three more texts, which had seemed initially unpromising but just about deserved a second look.

Flipping through the parchment scrolls, Gandalf saw something which made his breath catch in his throat. Seeing that the Archivist had perked up his ears at this obvious sign of interest, Gandalf muttered something about traditional betrothal dances, at which the Archivist lost interest.

For there it was – a scroll written in Isildur's hand. Gandalf eagerly scanned the page until he came to the following words:

 _The Great Ring shall go now to be an heirloom of the North Kingdom; but records of it shall be left in Gondor, where also dwell the heirs of Elendil, lest a time should come when the memory of these great matters shall grow dim._

So much for that, thought Gandalf. The time of forgetfulness had certainly come sooner than Isildur would have imagined. But such was ever the way of Mannish realms; they rose and grew into splendour, only to fall again into ignorance and darkness.

Shaking himself out of his grim thoughts, Gandalf returned to the text. Fortunately, Isildur described the ring in some detail, and had transcribed the text which only appeared when the ring was heated. Gandalf read the words, written in the harsh and splintered tongue of the Black Land, and knew then without a doubt that Isildur's ring was Sauron's ring. Isildur, weak and foolish in the end, had not destroyed the ring. Yet he died while travelling north, to Arnor. What, then, had happened to the ring?

Gandalf turned the problem around in his mind. Most probably, the ring had been lost near the Anduin, where Isildur's men were ambushed and he was slain. But where could the ring have got to after that? It was unlikely to have fallen into the hands of dark creatures, since it would soon have found its way back to its Master in that case. No, either the ring lay at the bottom of the Anduin still, or some poor individual had picked it up and taken it as their own.

Their own… _my own_ … _my precious_. Gandalf paled as he heard the words echo around a cave, where a hobbit watched an emaciated creature caress a golden ring. With a mounting sense of fear, Gandalf wondered whether Bilbo's ring was really the harmless magic object he had thought it. But before he could draw any conclusions, Gandalf knew he would have to painstakingly trace the path of the ring after Isildur had lost it. If there turned out to be any connection to the creature called Gollum, then he would need to swiftly make his way to the Shire. What must happen after that, he dreaded to think.

Gandalf rode north the next morning, after thanking the bewildered Archivist for his help with the wizard's research into the wedding ceremonies of the Faithful in late Númenorean Rómenna.


End file.
